That happened to me today.
It started out as a normal Wednesday. Busy with work. And in between my many meetings and emails, my phone rings. Assuming it's a work call, I answer. It was the grief counseling group from Beaumont Hospice calling during one of my very few breaks through out the day asking how I was doing. Wondering if I would like to join a support group or get individual counseling. I kindly declined. I have an amazing support network and healthy coping mechanisms. Did I tear up a little? Sure. And that's OK.
The day progressed. Work ended. I took Liam to wrestling and Owen to Big Boy and on the way home, I stopped to get the mail, which hasn't been picked up since Saturday. Three days worth of mail, but I picked it up and opened it all today. The sympathy cards stopped flowing in a couple of weeks ago, and I had already gotten a sympathy card from my friend Kelly shortly after my dad passed away. This was a second card from her, a card of encouragement. A card of hope and love. A simple act of kindness.
Later on, as I tucked the boys into bed, I decided to sift through Liam's Valentine's cards that were sitting in his red, heart covered bag at the side of his bed. Those cards have been sitting next to his bed for a week and a half, but I chose to look through them today. I reached my hand in and pulled one out. ONE valentine. And there it was. The moment that took my breath away. My message.
And on TOP of this message, what also choked me up was Brendan's note to Liam, in his fourth grade handwriting, "sary abot your grampa". Out of the mouths of babes.
Thanks for watching over me Dad.
I love you so much.